Chapter 5 - The Man in Scrubs
I moved before he did.
The man in scrubs reached beneath his jacket.
I drove my shoulder into his chest and slammed him against the wall.
Something metallic struck the floor.
Not a gun.
A syringe.
Ruiz drew her weapon.
“Hands where I can see them!”
The man twisted away from me and swung an elbow toward my throat. I blocked it, caught his wrist and forced him face-first against the doorframe.
He was strong.
Trained.
Not a frightened college student.
Ruiz grabbed his other arm.
Together, we forced him to the floor.
“Who sent you?” I demanded.
He laughed.
Even with his cheek pressed against the tile, he laughed.
The emergency lights came on.
The red stone on his ring was gone.
The band remained, but the setting was empty.
A disposable cover lay near the syringe. Someone had placed a red imitation stone over the ring to make us think he belonged to the Founders.
A false trail.
Ruiz handcuffed him.
“Name.”
He said nothing.
Hospital security arrived seconds later, followed by two uniformed officers.
Ruiz held up the syringe.
“Bag this. No one touches it without gloves.”
One of the officers stared at the man.
“I know him.”
“From where?” Ruiz asked.
“Private security. His name is Cole Danner. He used to work for Cross Strategic.”
Richard Cross’s company.
The connection was no longer circumstantial.
It was standing on the floor of my daughter’s hospital room.
Danner lifted his head.
“Mr. Cross doesn’t know anything about this.”
“I didn’t ask about Richard Cross,” Ruiz said.
For the first time, Danner’s confidence cracked.
A small mistake.
But an important one.
He had been prepared to protect the father.
Not the son.
Doctors moved Lily to another floor under an assumed name. Ruiz assigned two officers outside her room, neither of them connected to campus investigations.
Danner was taken into custody.
Two hours later, he was released.
I found out when Ruiz entered the family waiting room and threw a folder onto the table.
“Judge Kilpatrick denied the emergency hold,” she said. “Danner’s attorney claimed he entered the wrong room during the outage.”
“With a syringe?”
“Insulin. He says he is diabetic.”
“Is he?”
“Yes.”
“What about the empty ring setting?”
“Decorative damage.”
“And his history with Cross Strategic?”
“Former employment is not probable cause.”
“He came into Lily’s room during a blackout.”
“The hospital’s access system shows his temporary badge was issued to repair a ventilation alarm.”
“By whom?”
“An employee who now says Danner showed valid contractor identification.”
I stared at her.
“They built the explanation before he entered the room.”
Ruiz lowered her voice.
“I know.”
“Then why is he walking free?”
“Because knowing and proving are not the same thing.”
I hated that sentence because it was true.
At dawn, Maya called.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Mr. Mercer, I found something.”
“Where are you?”
“At my friend’s apartment.”
“Is anyone watching the building?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did you find?”
“When I packed, I accidentally took one of Lily’s sketchbooks. She doesn’t draw, so I thought it was mine.”
“What’s inside?”
“Numbers. Pages of numbers.”
“Photograph them and send them to me.”
“I tried. My phone froze.”
“Turn it off. Remove the battery if you can.”
“It doesn’t come out.”
“Then wrap the phone in aluminum foil and don’t reconnect it.”
She was silent.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes?”
“Someone is outside.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“Lock the door.”
“It’s already locked.”
“Where is your friend?”
“At work.”
“Go to a room without windows. Call 911 from a different phone.”
“I can hear them on the stairs.”
I signaled Ruiz.
She was already calling dispatch.
“Maya, listen to me. Do not open the door for anyone.”
The line filled with static.
Then I heard three knocks.
Slow.
Identical to the dormitory.
“Campus housing,” a man called faintly from the other side. “We need to speak with you.”
Maya began crying.
“Stay silent,” I told her.
The doorknob moved.
Once.
Twice.
Then came the hard crack of wood splintering.
“Maya!”
The phone fell.
I heard running footsteps, a scream and furniture crashing.
Ruiz shouted the address to dispatch.
I grabbed my coat.
“Police are six minutes away,” she said.
“I can get there in four.”
“You’re not driving.”
We took her vehicle.
Ruiz used the lights but no siren. Rain streaked across the windshield as we cut through morning traffic.
When we reached the apartment building, the front door stood open.
We ran upstairs.
The apartment had been destroyed.
Cushions ripped apart. Drawers emptied. Paintings torn from the walls.
Maya was gone.
A smear of blood marked the kitchen floor.
Beside it lay her phone wrapped in aluminum foil.
Ruiz searched the bedrooms.
I found the sketchbook beneath the overturned refrigerator.
Whoever had attacked Maya had missed it.
The pages appeared filled with random chemical formulas and laboratory measurements. But Lily had taught me enough about her study habits to recognize when she was hiding something.
Every third line contained a number between one and twenty-six.
Letters.
I decoded the first page.
F-O-U-N-D-E-R-S.
The second page read:
NAMES.
The third:
PAYMENTS.
Ruiz returned.
“No one’s here.”
I showed her the notebook.
“We need to find Maya.”
She studied the final page.
Only one line was written there.
GREENHOUSE. MIDNIGHT. COME ALONE.
“That wasn’t written by Lily,” I said.
“How can you tell?”
“She makes her sevens with a line through the middle.”
The seven on the page had no line.
Someone had found part of Lily’s code.
Someone knew we would eventually decode it.
The message was not an invitation.
It was bait.
My phone vibrated.
A photograph appeared from an unknown number.
Maya sat tied to a metal chair inside the abandoned greenhouse. Blood ran from her forehead.
Behind her stood a man wearing a Founder’s ring.
May you like
Below the photograph were nine words.
BRING THE NOTEBOOK, OR YOUR DAUGHTER LOSES HER FRIEND.
